


Song of Gold

by plotweaver



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3903388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plotweaver/pseuds/plotweaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At one of the many victory feasts, Thorin sings a song unlike anything Bilbo has ever heard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Song of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> I love when people mention that the dwarves are musical, because I truly believe that they are. And I wanted to write a fic to showcase that. Hope you like it!

You know you’re in too deep when a hobbit cannot keep track of the numerous feasts and celebrations.

At least, that’s how Bilbo felt as he made his way into the already packed hall for the fifth or sixth victory feast in so many as ten days.

Dwarf feasts were much like the rowdy meals the company shared while on their journey to Erebor. Jaunty songs were sung, laughter rang so loud that it drowned out any echo, and food was thrown by the more bold dwarves.

The company often sat together at these feasts, naturally gravitating toward each other as people who have shared a long and perilous journey often do. They drank their wine and sang the songs along with the rest of their brethren, but they did so in a more reserved manner, more content to behold at the joy they had been able to provide rather than drink themselves into it. 

On this night, Bilbo found himself wedged between Bifur and Bofur at the great table. The cousins piled their plates high with hams, breads, and cheeses and, when dessert came, pies and cakes. Bifur kept up a constant stream of rude jokes, which Bilbo received secondhand from Bofur, once he had calmed his laughter enough to translate.

Bilbo couldn’t help but feel exhausted by the time dessert was cleared away. The Great Hall of Erebor had walls blacker than slate and it could, at times, be overwhelming. But when the torches were lit, the gold in the walls twinkled like distant stars. That, coupled with the hearty dwarven food sitting in his belly, lulled Bilbo into a state of tired contentment.

A sudden hush fell over the dwarves, and Bilbo looked around in confusion before seeing that Thorin had risen at the end of the table. This was not uncommon. Thorin had risen at nearly every feast to make some toast or another, praising his warriors for their bravery and his people for their resilience. The stillness of the dwarves around him was what put Bilbo at unease. These fine words from the king were always met with a cry of affirmation and joy, not the rapt attention that was now being given him. 

Thorin's eyes traveled the entire room before resting on Bilbo. The hobbit looked behind him, down the table, certain that someone or something more important was holding Thorin's gaze. But Bilbo was the only oddity: a hobbit in a hall of dwarves. Though he never felt like a sore thumb in their presence - say what you want about their manners, that had no bearing on the dwarves' hospitality - Bilbo shifted in his seat as the dwarves in the hall followed Thorin's gaze.

The worst was Dis. She sat to Thorin’s left, face in her hands. Through her fingers Bilbo caught glimpses of her bright smile, and the way her shoulders were shaking made it look like she was desperately trying to stop sniggering.

Thorin angled his body away from her, which let Bilbo know that he was aware of his sister’s behavior and was trying desperately to ignore her. 

What in Arda was going on?

Bilbo didn't know where to look. The torches on the wall? If he stared at them long enough, the light would imprint on his vision and blot out the faces turned toward him. No, he thought, that would be cowardly. He had faced a dragon. 

Dragons weren't humiliating, another part of Bilbo's brain answered. They just burnt you to a crisp and that was that. 

He might've taken the dragon in that moment.

Bilbo forced his eyes to turn to Thorin. Even from a few seats down, he could see the shocking blue of the dwarf king's eyes. They shifted minutely, as if looking at all of Bilbo, not merely his face. Bilbo furrowed his brow and stared harder, determined to ignore the burn creeping up the back of his neck. 

Thorin moved so suddenly that it caught Bilbo by surprise. All at once, his eyes moved from Bilbo, his posture relaxed, and his voice boomed over those gathered.

The guttural sounds of khuzdul made no sense to Bilbo, however. He briefly recalled how the dwarves from the Blue Mountains gasped in surprise when the company spoke it freely in front of Bilbo. He did not understand until Thorin graciously explained one night after the festivities died down.

“It is secret,” he had said when Bilbo asked. “Only spoken in front of enemies we are about to kill. Or those who are, or will soon be family.” He had cast his eyes down at that, for which Bilbo was grateful. He did not want Thorin to see him blush when he realized that the company thought of him as family. That _Thorin_ thought of him as worthy of this secret.

Now, the dwarves were so used to Bilbo attending feasts where khuzdul toasts were spoken that they hardly reacted at all when Thorin began his speech. 

Bilbo settled in. Thorin, while not an adequate conversationalist, was quite a long-winded speechmaker. A few nights ago, he had gone on so long that Bilbo had to dig his fingernails into his thigh just to keep himself awake. 

So Bilbo started when the speech was only a few phrases long, cut off by the plucking of a peaceful sounding string instrument.

Then, to Bilbo’s astonishment, Thorin began to sing. The notes of his voice were long and low.

Gone was the sleepy contentment of the meal. Gone was the heightened self-consciousness. All that remained was Thorin’s song. 

Bilbo had never heard anything like it. He sat, mouth slightly agape, fixated on Thorin. Thorin, for his part, seemed equally captivated by Bilbo. His eyes seldom left the hobbit’s face.

The song was slow, but not sad. Soft, but not without power. It was mournful, yes, but heartbreakingly hopeful at the same time. It was maddening, really. Bilbo, master of words upon a page, scoured his mind to find an adequate word to describe the melody, but failed.

Part of the reason why the dwarves accepted his presence while khuzdul was spoken was the fact that Bilbo seldom asked for translations. On a few occasions when someone addressed him directly he stood on tiptoe to whisper his confusion to Thorin, but, beyond that, he figured that khuzdul was the dwarves’ business.

But while Thorin sung, Bilbo found that more dwarves were nudging each other and nodding in Bilbo’s direction rather than remaining captivated by Thorin’s singing. He found this to be very frustrating. It was bad enough being the object of attention, but to be the object of attention when there was something, someone, much more fascinating and beautiful in the room made Bilbo two shades shy of angry.

Thorin’s voice shook, and Bilbo wondered if he was frustrated at his audience as well before seeing that, no, Thorin had closed his eyes. The king tilted his head back, completely lost in the song.

Bilbo could not find it in his capacity any longer to resist tugging on the ends of Bofur’s cap.

“What’s happening?” he asked. “What’s he saying?”

Bofur looked at him incredulously for a moment before schooling his expression.

“You don’t understand a word of it, do you?”

“Of course not,” Bilbo said. “It’s Khuzdul.”

“Some of us thought, with you helping out in the library and all…”

“I haven’t picked up a new language in a manner of weeks, Bofur.” Bilbo nodded his head toward Thorin. “What’s he singing?”

“He’s singing about treasure, I guess you could say.” Bofur shook his head, as if not pleased with his own translation.

“The Arkenstone?” Bilbo asked. “I’ve heard songs sung in its honor before, but not like this.”

“Um, not quite.”

"The gold then?"

"Aye, a kind of gold." Bofur smiled at that. But he did so with his head bent, as if sharing a private joke with himself.

Bilbo firmly placed his hand on Bofur's arm. "I want to know, Bofur."

And he really did. Thorin looked so peaceful as his mouth danced to form the lyrics. The song echoed off the dark walls of the hall, as if a low chorus of stone had joined in. It was impossible to see Thorin in such a state and not want to know what brought him there. Deep in the warm mountain, surrounded by revelry, he had no use for bulky furs and full regalia. He wore a simple shirt and was crownless, no adornments save the gleaming beads at the ends of his braids. He would have been handsome simply standing there, but the way the song had opened him up enchanted Bilbo.

“Well,” Bofur started, suddenly very interested in the table in front of him. “He’s, ah, singing a love song. Of sorts.”

“A love… song?”

Both words made perfect sense to Bilbo on their own. Songs were an everyday occurrence for hobbits. And love was a perfectly normal emotion.

“Of sorts,” Bofur said. He finally tore his eyes away from the small divot in the table he was making with the handle of his spoon to look at Bilbo’s still-perplexed face. “You know,” he elaborated, “a love song. A song about love.”

“I don’t understand,” Bilbo said.

“He’s not singing about the Stone or any other treasure. He’s singing about a person. Someone he loves.” Bofur inclined his head toward Bilbo in such a way that Bilbo felt he was thought a fool. Bofur seemed to think that a small child, let alone Bilbo Baggins, should be able to understand his explanation.

“Do hobbits not have love songs?” he asked when Bilbo said nothing.

Tingling heat rose in Bilbo’s cheeks, and he looked down. Hobbits did have songs, of course. They would sing and dance at birthday parties, but always about proper things, like the yellow flowers in the field or the excellent Leaf that the Green Dragon always kept in stock. The fact that someone would sing about such a private matter as love, that they would bare their emotions this publicly was fascinating and breathtaking.

“Can you tell me what he’s saying exactly?” Bilbo asked.

“Well, uh… erm…” Bofur looked surprised and troubled at this request. “I’m not sure I…” He looked to his king before dropping his gaze to the empty ale mug in front of him. "Something about hair. Nice hair."

“Nice hair?” Bilbo asked. Love songs were strange.

"Yup." Bofur shuffled his feet under the table. "Gold..." he glanced at Bilbo before dropping his gaze once again, "...hair."

That seemed to be all he could manage from Bofur. The dwarf tugged at the ends of his cap uncomfortably before turning away from Bilbo.

Bilbo redirected his attention to Thorin. 

At that moment, Thorin opened his eyes and immediately fixed them on Bilbo's. Such an intense stare he always had, but gone were the days when Bilbo felt intimidated by his gaze. Now, when Thorin looked on him, Bilbo felt a connection. A bond near impossible to break. Thorin's eyes were so focused and unwavering that Bilbo felt an inexplicable need to draw near the dwarven king every time he looked his way. That, coupled with the lovely song unlike anything Bilbo ever heard, fluttered his stomach and made his heart ache. It was not an altogether unpleasant feeling. 

And as he stared back into Thorin’s unwavering gaze, Bilbo thought that it would be a lucky creature indeed to have such a song sung for them.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it! Take that ending any way you like ;-)
> 
> Hope you liked it! Please leave me a comment (even if you didn't like it). It takes two seconds and keeps me happy for so much longer. And it lets me know what you liked/didn't like so I can write better in the future!
> 
> I got the inspiration while listening to "I Love You Too Much" from The Book of Life soundtrack. While I don't picture Thorin singing that song, I picture him singing those sentiments.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at plotweaver.tumblr.com! We can talk about Thilbo, life, or any/all of the puppies you saw today.


End file.
